


The Purple Dress

by raiyana



Series: Nwalin works [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Insecurity, M/M, Post-Quest of Erebor, Smut, spymaster!Nori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Sparkle did artsy things again.Nori has a Plan, and Dwalin tries to derail it... a little.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Sparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dwalin appreciating Nori... and a dress?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/318972) by Asparklethatisblue. 



> Another attempt at Nwalin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For trans!Nori, read [chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908197/chapters/27954492) instead.

Life under King Dís was good, Nori thought. He had a nice steady job that utilized his unique skills – was he actually getting paid when whatever Dís gave him from the Treasury might as well already have been his as the owner of a fourteenth share of a square mile of treasure? – and didn’t involve Dwalin in hot pursuit trying to nail him for one misdeed or another. Well, Dwalin did pursue him hotly _and_ accuse him of one misdeed or another fairly often, Nori had to admit, but both the pursuit, the eventual capture, _and_ the punishment for his ‘misdeeds’ – honestly, taking the last of Dori’s cookies was hardly that grave a crime; it wasn’t like Dori wouldn’t make more if they asked – were _far_ more _fun_ than he had ever had dancing with the Guard-Captain in Ered Luin’s backstreets. Nori grinned, sneaking along a rooftop. He’d been to see Dori – officially – and ordered a new dress from his older sister, but old habits die hard, and Nori _liked_ sneaking about, even if Erebor had far fewer shady corners to hide in… that fact only made the sneaking more fun, to Nori’s mind. As he was the mastermind behind the lack of said hiding spaces and dark shadows that provided cover for the less legal inhabitants of Erebor and their illicit transactions, he knew where all the good ones had been left behind – including sneaky perches from which to overhear things King Dís wanted to know. One such perch had given him the impetus behind his decision to buy a dress and break out his most feminine posture. The miscreants – Dori wouldn’t have approved of Nori calling them something stronger and he was still filled with goodwill because of the bag of cookies destined to get him into Dwalin’s good graces that he minded his language – had been plotting a heist. Nori normally liked a good heist; especially if he could rob the loot right from under the noses of whoever thought they could muscle in on _his_ Mountain; even more so if he could do it with three minutes to spare before Dwalin busted the door down following his hints. This heist, however, was meant to steal something that _mattered_.

_These_ plotters aimed to steal Fíli’s mastery project, a finely wrought silver goblet, from Dís’ personal collection. These plotters had broken one of Nori’s codes. If they’d wanted to nick something from the Treasury, he’d have wished them luck, sure, there was so much gold in there that even five years after Erebor had been reclaimed, they hadn’t finished tallying it all. Stealing something no one would miss… Nori wouldn’t have done more than raise an eyebrow and smirk when they were eventually caught by the Treasury Guards who – wary of gold-sickness – still searched every Dwarf who went into the Treasury. Stealing one of the few things the young princes had left behind, and stealing it from their still-grieving amad, however… well, _that_ made Nori feel a bit angry. People tended to face unfortunate and painful fates when Nori was angry with them – when he was _really_ angry, not just mildly Dwalin-hogged-my-duvet-again peeved, obviously – and that had been the beginning of his scheme.

Nori was out for revenge.

His plan was simple, really. Seduce the blighter who thought it was a smart idea to steal from one of Nori’s _people_ – this included The Company, King Dís, and a few of his oldest friends – and use the dirt he’d already uncovered to destroy Lady Beurla’s reputation before he had Dwalin take her away in the heaviest chains he could find in the Erebor dungeons and delivered to the King’s Justice – sans a braid or two for Nori’s personal collection. Phase One had been the most time-consuming, learning exactly the type of Dwarf Lady Beurla favoured had required some trial and error, some unwitting help from Bofur as well as a few of the young Dwarrow he had been training for his network of spies inside the Mountain.

Enter the Dress.

Nori had – when he was very young – been just as interested in fabrics and cuts as Dori; it was one of the few things they actually agreed on – the ‘Ri-family had _style_ – along with the fact that Dwalin shouldn’t be allowed to dress himself for official appearances without input from Dís, Dori, or Nori; a policy wholeheartedly endorsed by Dís, who had spent _years_ making her cousin look like he belonged at Thorin’s back during public events. Of course, Thorin’s sense of dress had been even more dismal than Dwalin’s, so she’d had plenty of practise, but Nori knew that Dís secretly loved dressing up her Captain. Not that he minded – Dís had enough taste for three Dwarrow – because watching Dwalin try on clothes was always worth an extra look. The Dress he had obtained from Dori this afternoon was meant to show off everything he _had_ – his hair, beard and his cute butt – while making him _appear_ to have what he lacked. The purple colour went with his hair, and Dori had promised to dig out her silver and amethyst hair clasps for him too. Lady Beurla – daughter of one of Thrór’s old advisors – exclusively favoured ladies, so Nori had to become a lady for a while.

Tonight was the first step of his infiltration, the first step to uncovering not only _what_ but also _who_ , _why_ , and _how._ Beurla wasn’t stupid, and if Nori hadn’t overheard that single conversation he’d interpreted – and set a few of his underlings to verify on the sly – to mean the theft of Fíli’s goblet, she would have appeared an upstanding Longbeard citizen. Of course, that façade hadn’t held up to prolonged digging on Nori’s part, revealing more than one buried skeleton in Beurla’s closet during her years in exile, which she claimed to have spent in the Iron Hills, when Nori’s contacts had reliably informed him that she’d worked as a fence in the Orocarni until five years ago when the King got wind of her little side-operation. Living in the Orocarni had included a few murders, some kidnappings – one ambassador’s daughter, and some lesser known dwarrow for good measure – which had never been proven. Nailing her for the goblet theft might seem minor in comparison, but given the significance of the object – as one of the few things left bearing Fíli’s mark, it had taken on an almost holy shine in the hearts and minds of the people who mourned their well-loved golden prince who’d perished before his time, given his life to secure their home – it gave Nori and King Dís valuable opportunities. Nori had had to swear a heartfelt oath that he’d bring the goblet back before Dís signed off on his plan, but when it worked, Nori would be able to rain charges down on Beurla’s head with evidence procured through less than strictly legal avenues from as far away as the Orocarni.

 

Slinking into the home he shared with Dwalin – surprisingly modest for a couple of Lords Companion – Nori put the bag with his new dress down on the bed and went to clean himself up. He vaguely heard Dwalin come home, but he was floating in blissfully warm water that smelled of his favourite scent, so he simply hollered a greeting which Dwalin returned, and listened to the sound of scrambling pots as Dwalin began assembling his evening meal. Nori would be eating at Beurla’s party, he assumed, but Dwalin had the night off; a rare occurrence, which vexed Nori when he realised he wouldn’t be able to spend it showing his brawny lover all the possible meanings of the phrase ‘up against the wall and spread em’ which was next on his long list of ‘Things Dwalin has said over the years that I now have to make sexual in revenge’. Leaving his lovely bath and towelling off with one of the new ‘fluffy’ kinds of towels invented by the Weavers’ Guild, Nori dressed himself carefully. He had ‘borrowed’ a bottle of scent from Dís – he sometimes liked to nick things she would have let him have if he asked and then bring them back later, just to keep them both on their toes – and daubed a bit behind each ear and down to the ‘cleavage’ part of his chest, which would be sensually covered by a piece of sheer-but-actually-opaque fabric that helped give him the illusion of the breasts the dress added to his otherwise flat chest. Sliding on the thin leggings, Nori studied his bum in the mirror, giving himself an appreciative glance before he began slipping on the dress, carefully doing up the laces and stays that helped reshape him. It was subtle – Men never had figured out how to spot a Dwarf from a Dwarrowdam, which was a running joke but no less true for that – but Nori knew he looked female to those who bothered to look. The piece de resistance was his hair, of course. The beard braids combined with the hair braids would make anyone believe him a dam of some nobility – Dori was a master when it came to designing hair, after all, and Nori had learned from a young age how _useful_ big hair could be when it came to hiding things. He didn’t think Dwalin had ever realised how many lockpicks and assorted weapons he regularly concealed in his lofty peaks, even if the style was too distinctive at times. He had only just finished braiding up his beard when the door opened on silent hinges – only the hinges Nori designated to be ‘warnings’ were allowed to remain unoiled.

“Dori dropped these off for you at my office,” Dwalin rumbled, sticking his head through the doorway. His large hand held a box of what Nori assumed were the promised hair clasps, but he seemed slightly frozen, staring at Nori. Raising an eyebrow, Nori waited for the warrior’s comment. It wasn’t the first time Dwalin had seen him dressed as a dam, though he’d never looked quite like that when Nori broke out his feminine side.

“Smaug got your tongue?” he teased. Dwalin’s blue eyes darkened. The distinct sound of the metal box being set firmly on the shelf beside the door seemed to echo in the room.

“Nori…” Dwalin trailed off. Nori was surprised by the way he licked his lips; Dwalin had never shown an inclination towards dams, and for a moment Nori frowned, trying to decide if he had missed something. Dwalin’s mouth stole the thought from his head before it fully formed, soft but urgent, the bristles of his beard rubbing against Nori’s skin, dragging against the hair of his own beard. Nori felt Dwalin’s large hands moving underneath the dress, unfastening laces with nearly feverish haste.

“Dwalinnnn…” he groaned, leaning back before his cock could decide to stay home and let Dwalin continue whatever he wanted. “I don’t have time.”

“I know,” Dwalin rumbled against Nori’s lips, his thick fingers now wrapped around Nori’s cock and stroking firmly. The push surprised Nori enough to fall backwards onto the bed. Dwalin leaned over him, grinning cockily.

“Mahal, Dwalin!” Nori cried out, exasperated. He tried to swat at Dwalin’s grinning face, but the warrior’s shiny head had disappeared behind a screen of purple cloth. Nori growled. When Dwalin’s mouth closed around the head of his cock, the sound became an embarrassingly needy moan. “What are you... why are... oh Maker, don’t stop!” Back in Ered Luin he’d had no idea how hot Dwalin’s mouth was – a capital oversight, in Nori’s opinion – but he’d learned better during the long months on the road. The warrior’s tongue had an almost scary ability to scramble his brains, transforming Nori from his usual suave persona to a hot mewling mess of pleading. Dwalin was never a silent lover, something that had confused Nori at first, being used to silent trysts in dark corners, but Dwalin’s groans had soon become his favourite instrument, working out ways to elicit new and interesting sounds from his big chest. When he realised that his own sounds turned the warrior harder than rock, he’d slowly learned to let go of years of learned control, releasing his own moans into the air. Dwalin’s finger was teasing across his hole, dragging along the rim in a way that was both terrible and making Nori wish for greasy salve and more time. Dwalin hummed, bobbing his head quickly up and down. His tongue – Mahal had made that tongue just to torment Dwarrow and Nori was never giving it up, _ever_ – moved sensuously around the head. When Dwalin pulled back, sucking the head lightly, Nori wanted to scream.

“Don’t stop?” Dwalin teased, running his tongue down the underside of Nori’s cock. “I thought you wanted to leave…”

“Dwalin, I swear…!” Nori’s threat died to a whimper when Dwalin dragged the flat of his tongue across the rim of his hole, his thick fingers returning to their previous rhythm of stroking. Dwalin chuckled, sealing his lips around Nori’s hole and sucking. Nori’s hips bucked into his hand, his mewls becoming nearly desperate. Dwalin hummed thoughtfully and then his blessed warm and wet mouth was back to wrapping Nori’s cock in velvety softness. Nori cursed. With another chuckle, Dwalin moved further down, rolling Nori’s balls between thick fingers and swallowed him down. Using the muscles of his throat to Milk Nori’s cock, Dwalin hummed one of Bofur’s silly songs. Nori groaned. He wasn’t even aware of the words he was babbling, his one hand busy holding the skirt of his dress aside so he could _see_ Dwalin stuff his face with Nori’s cock while his other hand rested lightly on the warrior’s head. Dwalin tugged lightly on Nori’s balls, and the combination was suddenly too _much_ , too _good_.

 

When Nori’s mind returned to his body, Dwalin was licking him clean, rubbing soothing circles on his thigh. Nori groaned. Looking down, he watched as Dwalin carefully stuffed him back into the soft leggings, tying up the laces. “What?” Nori groaned, his head thumping back on the mattress. Rising onto his elbows, he watched Dwalin smirk, pressing one more kiss against Nori’s clothed thigh before he pulled the skirt of the dress back down and got to his feet. Nori eyed the mouth-watering bulge in Dwalin’s own breeches, but the warrior shook his head.

“Now you’ll be thinking about that every time you wear that dress,” he said smugly, wiping a bit of cum from his beard. “Off you go seducing some noble… just know that _this_ ,” he palmed his sizable erection with a light moan, “will be waiting when you get back.” Whistling an innocent tune, Dwalin left the room, returning to his dinner-making. Nori scowled at the ceiling.

“That’s not playing fair!” he yelled after Dwalin’s back. Dwalin simply laughed.

“Don’t be late for the party…” he yelled back. Nori cursed. Dwalin had been quick, but he was almost late anyway. Happy that his hair was sorted with the swiftness of long practise, Nori stomped out of the house only ten minutes behind schedule. Dwalin patted his bum on the way out, making sure to stroke suggestively across the curve of Nori’s cheek. “I’ll be waiting…”

 


	2. Chapter 1 with a twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, it was brought to my attention that the nori in the pictures was a female-at-birth person... and honestly, that makes the second(now third) chapter even better, so here you have a trans!Nori version. Or an attempt, at least, I'm very aware of my shortcomings in this area :/

## Dress Kink for Sparkle – transgender version?

 

Life under King Dís was good, Nori thought. He had a nice steady job that utilized his unique skills – was he actually getting paid when whatever Dís gave him from the Treasury might as well already have been his as the owner of a fourteenth share of a square mile of treasure? – and didn’t involve Dwalin in hot pursuit trying to nail him for one misdeed or another. Well, Dwalin did pursue him hotly _and_ accuse him of one misdeed or another fairly often, Nori had to admit, but both the pursuit, the eventual capture, _and_ the punishment for his ‘misdeeds’ – honestly, taking the last of Dori’s cookies was hardly that grave a crime; it wasn’t like Dori wouldn’t make more if they asked – were _far_ more _fun_ than he had ever had dancing with the Guard-Captain in Ered Luin’s backstreets. Nori grinned, sneaking along a rooftop. He’d been to see Dori – officially – and ordered a new dress from his older sister, but old habits die hard, and Nori _liked_ sneaking about, even if Erebor had far fewer shady corners to hide in… that fact only made the sneaking more fun, to Nori’s mind. As he was the mastermind behind the lack of said hiding spaces and dark shadows that provided cover for the less legal inhabitants of Erebor and their illicit transactions, he knew where all the good ones had been left behind – including sneaky perches from which to overhear things King Dís wanted to know. One such perch had given him the impetus behind his decision to buy a dress and break out his most feminine posture. The miscreants – Dori wouldn’t have approved of Nori calling them something stronger and he was still filled with goodwill because of the bag of cookies destined to get him into Dwalin’s good graces that he minded his language – had been plotting a heist. Nori normally liked a good heist; especially if he could rob the loot right from under the noses of whoever thought they could muscle in on _his_ Mountain; even more so if he could do it with three minutes to spare before Dwalin busted the door down following his hints. This heist, however, was meant to steal something that _mattered_.

 _These_ plotters aimed to steal Fíli’s mastery project, a finely wrought silver goblet, from Dís’ personal collection. These plotters had broken one of Nori’s codes. If they’d wanted to nick something from the Treasury, he’d have wished them luck, sure, there was so much gold in there that even five years after Erebor had been reclaimed, they hadn’t finished tallying it all. Stealing something no one would miss… Nori wouldn’t have done more than raise an eyebrow and smirk when they were eventually caught by the Treasury Guards who – wary of gold-sickness – still searched every Dwarf who went into the Treasury. Stealing one of the few things the young princes had left behind, and stealing it from their still-grieving amad, however… well, _that_ made Nori feel a bit angry. People tended to face unfortunate and painful fates when Nori was angry with them – when he was _really_ angry, not just mildly Dwalin-hogged-my-duvet-again peeved, obviously – and that had been the beginning of his scheme.

Nori was out for revenge.

His plan was simple, really. Seduce the blighter who thought it was a smart idea to steal from one of Nori’s _people_ – this included The Company, King Dís, and a few of his oldest friends – and use the dirt he’d already uncovered to destroy Lady Beurla’s reputation before he had Dwalin take her away in the heaviest chains he could find in the Erebor dungeons and delivered to the King’s Justice – sans a braid or two for Nori’s personal collection. Phase One had been the most time-consuming, learning exactly the type of Dwarf Lady Beurla favoured had required some trial and error, some unwitting help from Bofur as well as a few of the young Dwarrow he had been training for his network of spies inside the Mountain.

Enter the Dress.

Nori had – when he was very young – been just as interested in fabrics and cuts as Dori; it was one of the few things they actually agreed on – the ‘Ri-family had _style_ – along with the fact that Dwalin shouldn’t be allowed to dress himself for official appearances without input from Dís, Dori, or Nori; a policy wholeheartedly endorsed by Dís, who had spent _years_ making her cousin look like he belonged at Thorin’s back during public events. Of course, Thorin’s sense of dress had been even more dismal than Dwalin’s, so she’d had plenty of practise, but Nori knew that Dís secretly loved dressing up her Captain. Not that he minded – Dís had enough taste for three Dwarrow – because watching Dwalin try on clothes was always worth an extra look. The Dress he had obtained from Dori this afternoon was meant to show off everything he _had_ – his hair, beard and his cute butt – while making him _appear_ to have what he lacked. The purple colour went with his hair, and Dori had promised to dig out her silver and amethyst hair clasps for him too. Lady Beurla – daughter of one of Thrór’s old advisors – exclusively favoured ladies, so Nori had to become a lady for a while.

Tonight was the first step of his infiltration, the first step to uncovering not only _what_ but also _who_ , _why_ , and _how._ Beurla wasn’t stupid, and if Nori hadn’t overheard that single conversation he’d interpreted – and set a few of his underlings to verify on the sly – to mean the theft of Fíli’s goblet, she would have appeared an upstanding Longbeard citizen. Of course, that façade hadn’t held up to prolonged digging on Nori’s part, revealing more than one buried skeleton in Beurla’s closet during her years in exile, which she claimed to have spent in the Iron Hills, when Nori’s contacts had reliably informed him that she’d worked as a fence in the Orocarni until five years ago when the King got wind of her little side-operation. Living in the Orocarni had included a few murders, some kidnappings – one ambassador’s daughter, and some lesser known dwarrow for good measure – which had never been proven. Nailing her for the goblet theft might seem minor in comparison, but given the significance of the object – as one of the few things left bearing Fíli’s mark, it had taken on an almost holy shine in the hearts and minds of the people who mourned their well-loved golden prince who’d perished before his time, given his life to secure their home – it gave Nori and King Dís valuable opportunities. Nori had had to swear a heartfelt oath that he’d bring the goblet back before Dís signed off on his plan, but when it worked, Nori would be able to rain charges down on Beurla’s head with evidence procured through less than strictly legal avenues from as far away as the Orocarni.

 

Slinking into the home he shared with Dwalin – surprisingly modest for a couple of Lords Companion – Nori put the bag with his new dress down on the bed and went to clean himself up. He vaguely heard Dwalin come home, but he was floating in blissfully warm water that smelled of his favourite scent, so he simply hollered a greeting which Dwalin returned, and listened to the sound of scrambling pots as Dwalin began assembling his evening meal. Nori would be eating at Beurla’s party, he assumed, but Dwalin had the night off; a rare occurrence, which vexed Nori when he realised he wouldn’t be able to spend it showing his brawny lover all the possible meanings of the phrase ‘up against the wall and spread em’ which was next on his long list of ‘Things Dwalin has said over the years that I now have to make sexual in revenge’. Leaving his lovely bath and towelling off with one of the new ‘fluffy’ kinds of towels invented by the Weavers’ Guild, Nori dressed himself carefully. He had ‘borrowed’ a bottle of scent from Dís – he sometimes liked to nick things she would have let him have if he asked and then bring them back later, just to keep them both on their toes – and daubed a bit behind each ear and down to the ‘cleavage’ part of his chest, which would be sensually covered by a piece of sheer-but-actually-opaque fabric that helped give him the illusion of a bigger chest than nature had provided him. Sliding on the thin leggings, Nori studied his bum in the mirror, giving himself an appreciative glance before he began slipping on the dress, carefully doing up the laces and stays. It was subtle – Men never had figured out how to spot a Dwarf from a Dwarrowdam, which was a running joke but no less true for that – but Nori knew he looked female to those who bothered to look. The piece de resistance was his hair, of course. The beard braids combined with the hair braids would make anyone believe him a dam of some nobility. Dori was a master when it came to designing hair, and Nori had spent most of the afternoon discussing his temporary look, which was different-but-similar to the way he’d normally braid it. Nori had learned from a young age how _useful_ big hair could be when it came to hiding things, sliding a long needle – it was surprising how easy it was to incapacitate someone with such a puny weapon… or it was surprising to Nori’s enemies, at least – into his hair. He didn’t think Dwalin had ever realised how many lockpicks and assorted weapons he regularly concealed in his lofty peaks, even if the style was too distinctive at times. He had only just finished braiding up his beard when the door opened on silent hinges – only the hinges Nori designated to be ‘warnings’ were allowed to remain unoiled.

“Dori dropped these off for you at my office,” Dwalin rumbled, sticking his head through the doorway. His large hand held a box of what Nori assumed were the promised hair clasps, but he seemed slightly frozen, staring at Nori. Raising an eyebrow, Nori waited for the warrior’s comment. It wasn’t the first time Dwalin had seen him dressed as a dam, though he’d never looked quite like that when Nori broke out his feminine side.

“Smaug got your tongue?” he teased. Dwalin’s blue eyes darkened. The distinct sound of the metal box being set firmly on the shelf beside the door seemed to echo in the room.

“Nori…” Dwalin trailed off. Nori was surprised by the way he licked his lips; Dwalin had never shown an inclination towards dams, and for a moment Nori frowned, trying to decide if he had missed something. Dwalin’s mouth stole the thought from his head before it fully formed, soft but urgent, the bristles of his beard rubbing against Nori’s skin, dragging against the hair of his own beard. Nori felt Dwalin’s large hands moving underneath the dress, unfastening laces with nearly feverish haste.

“Dwalinnnn…” he groaned, leaning back before his body could decide to stay home and let Dwalin continue whatever he wanted. “I don’t have time.”

“I know,” Dwalin rumbled against Nori’s lips, his thick fingers now moving with purpose – Nori was half-surprised at the ease with which Dwalin found his small hammer, trapping it between two fingers and stroking firmly. The push on his shoulder surprised Nori enough to fall backwards onto the bed. Dwalin leaned over him, grinning cockily.

“Mahal, Dwalin!” Nori cried out, exasperated. “I don’t have time!” He tried to swat at Dwalin’s grinning face, but the warrior’s shiny head had disappeared behind a screen of purple cloth. Nori growled. When Dwalin’s mouth replaced his fingers, the sound became an embarrassingly needy moan. Dwalin chuckled. Dwalin was never a silent lover, something that had confused Nori at first, being used to silent trysts in dark corners, but Dwalin’s groans had soon become his favourite instrument, working out ways to elicit new and interesting sounds from his big chest. When he realised that his own sounds turned the warrior harder than rock, he’d slowly managed to let go of years of learned control, releasing his own moans into the air. “What are you... why are...” he babbled, torn between pushing Dwalin away from his hot forge and keeping him there forever. Back in Ered Luin he’d had no idea how hot Dwalin’s mouth was – a capital oversight, in Nori’s opinion – but he’d learned better during the long months on the road. The warrior’s tongue had an almost scary ability to scramble his brains, transforming Nori from his usual suave persona to a hot mewling mess of pleading. “Oh Maker, don’t stop!” he cried, pushing the purple fabric aside. Dwalin’s slick finger was teasing across the furled muscle of his hole, dragging along the rim in a way that was both terrible and making Nori wish for greasy salve and more time. Dwalin hummed, his beard creating the most wonderful… _oh, Mahal_ … His tongue; Mahal had made that tongue just to torment Dwarrow and Nori was never giving it up, _ever_. Nori whimpered. When Dwalin pulled back, sucking a small hickey into his thigh, Nori wanted to scream.

“Don’t stop?” Dwalin teased, running his tongue along Nori’s forge and scrambling his mind. _He was supposed to be doing something else… right?_ “I thought you wanted to leave…”

“Dwalin, I swear…!” Nori’s threat died to a whimper when Dwalin dragged the flat of his tongue across the rim of his hole, his thick fingers returning to their previous rhythm of stroking. Dwalin chuckled, sealing his lips around Nori’s hole and sucking. “ _Bastard!_ ” Nori’s hips bucked into his hand, his mewls becoming nearly desperate. Dwalin hummed thoughtfully and then his blessed warm and wet mouth was back to wrapping Nori’s hammer in velvety softness. Nori cursed. With another chuckle, Dwalin’s fingers returned to teasing him, building the fire higher with every stroke of his tongue. Nori groaned. He wasn’t even aware of the words he was babbling, his one hand busy holding the skirt of his dress aside so he could _see_ Dwalin steal a taste of him, Nori’s hand resting lightly on the warrior’s head, pressing him closer. Dwalin’s short fingernails scratched lightly across his rear entrance, lighting the sensitive nerve endings on fire, and the combination was suddenly too much, too _good_.

 

When Nori’s mind returned to his body, Dwalin was licking him clean, rubbing soothing circles on his thigh. Nori groaned. Looking down, he watched as Dwalin carefully pulled up the soft leggings, tying up the laces. He was smirking, his beard glistening. “What?” Nori groaned, his head thumping back on the mattress. Rising onto his elbows, he watched Dwalin lick his lips, pressing one more kiss against Nori’s clothed thigh before he pulled the skirt of the dress back down and got to his feet. Nori eyed the mouth-watering bulge in Dwalin’s own breeches, but the warrior shook his head.

“Now you’ll be thinking about that every time you wear that dress,” he said smugly, wiping a bit of cum from his beard. “Off you go seducing some noble… just know that _this_ ,” he palmed his sizable erection with a light moan, “will be waiting when you get back.” Whistling an innocent tune, Dwalin left the room, returning to his dinner-making. Nori scowled at the ceiling.

“That’s not playing fair!” he yelled after Dwalin’s back. Dwalin simply laughed.

“Don’t be late for the party…” he yelled back. Nori cursed. Dwalin had been quick, but he was almost late anyway. Happy that his hair was sorted with the swiftness of long practise, Nori stomped out of the house only ten minutes behind schedule. Dwalin patted his bum on the way out, making sure to stroke suggestively across the curve of Nori’s cheek, dipping into the crease. “I’ll be waiting…”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insecure Nori makes an appearance, along with growly Dwalin, and Dís being Dís-tastic

## C2

 

“Dwalin?” Nori asked, when he slipped through the bedroom door. It was, by anyone’s definition, late, and the party had ended hours ago, but Nori hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Dwalin’s afternoon actions and had spent hours trying to work it out in his head. _Did Dwalin really want a dam?_ The question had been brewing in the back of his mind all the way to Lady Beurla’s party, even though he had had to push the distraction away for the sake of his plan. Inveigling himself into her good graces was almost laughingly simple, but Nori had had to focus to keep his mind from straying to the warrior who was currently asleep in their bed.

Dwalin snored. He didn’t wake up when Nori slid into the bed, familiarity dulling his senses where Nori was concerned. The Thief lay awake for a long time, thinking.

 

* * *

 

“How was the party?” Dwalin asked, when Nori finally managed to drag himself out of bed, forced himself to let go of the pillow that smelled like Dwalin. Nori simply grumbled something unintelligible. “You got in so late, I thought I’d let you sleep,” Dwalin smiled, sliding a cup of tea towards Nori. “I have to get going, but you can tell me all about it later, yeah?” he asked, squeezing Nori’s shoulder as he got up from the table, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders and closing the door behind him before Nori could get up his courage to ask him to stay, to banish the thoughts in his head. Dwalin hadn’t even kissed him, Nori suddenly realised, his thoughts darkening in time with the tea cooling on the table.

 

* * *

 

“Nori?” Dwalin called, when he walked into the house that afternoon. Silence greeted him, Nori’s morning tea left undrunk on the table. Dwalin frowned, moving through the small house as he tried to remember if Nori was supposed to be off working; seducing the odious Lady Beurla was not his only approach to figuring out her network of plotters, Dwalin knew. “Nori?” he called again, but had to conclude that he’d be spending another evening without Nori when none of the rooms yielded an auburn-haired spymaster. With a slight sigh, Dwalin set off once more; inviting himself to join Balin for dinner was better than sitting in a silent house, he thought, knowing the kind of place his mind was likely to go – even if it meant an evening of listening to Balin waxing poetic about the Mines of Khazad-dûm and its mithril treasures.

 

* * *

 

 

When Nori crept in through the window, Dwalin was fast asleep. The Thief curled up beside him, careful not to touch as he tried to find some comfort in Dwalin’s presence, the familiar sound of his snores.

“Nori?” Dwalin murmured, but Nori said nothing. When he felt Dwalin’s arm wrapping around his middle, he resisted the pull that would have brought him up against Dwalin’s broad chest, shaking off his arm. “Goodnight, Nori,” Dwalin whispered, but he didn’t try again, and soon the room once more filled with the low drone of his snore.

Nori snuck out before first light.

 

* * *

 

 

“Nori?” Dwalin mumbled when he woke, reaching out to touch his lover, frowning when the other side of the bed was as empty as it had been when he went to bed. He’d been sure that Nori had come to bed at some point, vaguely remembered reaching for him in the night. Blearily blinking his eyes open, Dwalin turned his head, but Nori’s side of the bed looked untouched. Worried now, Dwalin dressed quickly, foregoing breakfast as he sped towards Dori’s house.

 

“Dwalin!” Dori greeted, fetching another cup from the cupboard, “What an unexpected surprise.” Pushing the cup and the pot of tea across the table, Dori offered Dwalin a roll, which the warrior accepted gratefully.

“Have you seen Nori lately?” Dwalin asked, frowning as he tore off a bite of the bread.

“Not since he picked up his party-frock from my shop, no?” Dori asked, calmly buttering his own roll. “Was I meant to?”

“I’m not sure,” Dwalin admitted, “he was home yesterday morning, though he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk – I thought he was simply tired from the party, apparently it went late – but when I got home yesterday, he hadn’t been in all day, and when I woke up this morning his bed was still untouched.” As he spoke, his appetite dwindled.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Dori reassured him, though Dwalin still felt teeth of worry gnaw at his soul. “If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks,” Dwalin muttered, his feeling of something wrong not at all assuaged. What if someone had cottoned on to Nori’s scheme and decided to silence him permanently. Dori tutted, obviously catching the signs of distress.

“Dwalin.” When Dori’s voice was firm like that, everyone listened; the Dwarf might be peculiarly even-tempered, but Dori _was_ capable of anger when he wished. “Nori will be fine. Now go off to do your job, and if you haven’t seen him in a few days we can start to worry. It’s not the first time he’s had to disappear for a while.” It might not be, but Dwalin was quite sure it was the first time in Erebor, and the thought sat uneasy with him.

“Yes, Dori,” he acquiesced nonetheless, leaving the house with the thought that Dori just _might_ be the scarier ri-brother. It was quickly replaced by the shudder-inducing memory of Ori calmly threatening to destroy his name for all of history if he didn’t treat Nori right, however, the first shovel-talk he’d been delivered by someone he could realistically bend in half with no trouble yet also among the scariest conversations he’d ever had, Dwalin thought ruefully.

 

Thinking about Ori, however, had convinced him that he ought to check with the Royal Scribe too, just to make sure Nori wasn’t simply hiding out for some reason or other.

“No, I haven’t seen Nori, Dwalin, I’m late for a Council Meeting,” Ori answered, before hurrying off towards the Council Chamber – Dwalin technically was supposed to be there, but he was not in the mind for guarding Dís today, so he’d send his replacement with his apologies, knowing that he’d owe his cousin some explanations later, but too worried to care. He’d failed to protect Thorin and the lads, he _wouldn’t_ fail to keep Nori safe; even if it meant worrying before there was much evidence of a _need_ to worry.

Dwalin spent his day prowling the streets, looking for any flash of auburn hair – in peaks or not – that would tell him Nori was at least _free_.

 

 

When he got home, Nori wasn’t there. Dwalin tried to tell himself that he wasn’t worried, but with a growl of annoyance, he went back to prowling, too agitated to sit still.

 

* * *

 

 

Nori watched Dwalin – he’d taken his peaks down, and covered his pointy features with a veil, his distinctive hair colour with another and rimmed his eyes in kohl; looking suddenly like an eastern merchant. He’d spent most of the previous day in the company of Beurla; listening to the gossip of her household, pretending an interest he didn’t feel whenever she gave him her attention. The thrill of the chase was gone; lost beneath the weight of his personal problems, but Nori hardly cared. He already had almost all the pieces needed for his small puzzle to fit together, the rest was simply icing on the cake.

Following the warrior, Nori wondered why Dwalin was in such a bad mood. As far as he knew, there’d been no incidents involving the Guard that would have put such a look on his face, nor had anything come up involving Dís or any of the members of the Company.

As they walked along, Nori realised that Dwalin was watching the dams they passed, ignoring the male Dwarrow entirely. Something twisted in his gut, an ugly feeling of potent jealousy he’d never had before – not like this. Keeping to the shadows, he flitted through the streets, wondering where Dwalin’s path was leading, the circuitous route baffling.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are you following me?” Dwalin growled, slamming the small Oricarnul into a convenient wall. Then he did a double-take, feeling the distinct prick of a sharp blade ready to pierce his gut. Tearing the veil from the Dwarf’s face, Dwalin simply stared for a long minute. “Nori…” he groaned, his hand releasing Nori’s throat to cup his face gently, the big warrior’s hand soft along his jaw. Leaning into Nori, Dwalin didn’t care about the knife still aimed at him, taking his lips in a relieved kiss. Pressing against him, Dwalin deepened the kiss, his free hand wrapping around Nori’s hip as he plundered his mouth. Nori stiffened in his arms; the first clue that something was seriously wrong with Dwalin’s world. “Nori?” he whispered, suddenly scared to open his eyes. Leaning his forehead against Nori’s, Dwalin simply breathed, trying to convince his body to hold still instead of flinching away from the blade at his throat.

“Let go of me,” Nori hissed, the words a breath of sensation against Dwalin’s lips. Confused, the warrior removed his hands from Nori’s tempting body. The dagger did not move away from his throat. “Back away, Guardsdwarf,” Nori continued, his voice dangerously low. Dwalin frowned. The small prick of the blade drawing a drop of blood convinced him to follow the hissed order.

“Nori, what’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step backwards, but holding out his hands, hoping for Nori to take them. Nori didn’t move. “Are you… in trouble?” Dwalin frowned, giving Nori a second look. Something odd was in his eyes, turning them from Dwalin’s favourite happy silver to this dull grey iron. Nori shuddered, and if Dwalin hadn’t known him so well, he would have managed to escape before Dwalin could catch his wrist. “Tell me, Nori,” he pleaded, keeping his grip strong enough to restrain but not bruise. “Let me help you, love,” Dwalin whispered. Nori groaned, turning his face into the wall, his back towards Dwalin and his wrist still captured.

“Go home, Dwalin,” he croaked.

“Not without you,” Dwalin barked back, daring to take a step closer. “Tell me what troubles you. Is it Beurla?” he nearly growled her name, silently swearing revenge for any harm she had caused to Nori.

“No.” Nori sighed. “I just needed to think.”

“Think?” Dwalin asked, his grip slackening in surprise. “Is that why you haven’t been home since yesterday, why you barely spoke a word to me the last time I saw you?!” Stepping up, Dwalin ignored the way Nori’s shoulders stiffened. Wrapping his arms around the near-trembling Thief, Dwalin felt his heart slow as he breathed in the familiar smell of Nori’s hair. “I missed you, you rascal,” he murmured, nosing along Nori’s neck.

 

* * *

 

Blinking, Dwalin stared up at Nori, feeling the flagstones beneath his back with only a little less incredulity than he felt Nori’s boot pressing into his throat.

“I told you not to touch me!” Nori hissed.

“Alright. Alright! Mahal, I’m sorry!” Dwalin growled, rubbing his throat when Nori danced a few steps away from him. “I was worried about you, you prick. Sorry.” Getting to his feet with a scowl, Dwalin strode past Nori, feeling angry now. “I won’t be home tonight.” he said, when he’d already reached the mouth of the alleyway. Nori didn’t answer, and when Dwalin looked back over his shoulder, the alleyway was deserted once more.

Rubbing his throat, Dwalin scowled all the way to the Royal Palace. 

 

* * *

 

“Dwalin?” Dís said, looking up from the needlepoint she was making. “Trouble?”

“Nori,” Dwalin grumbled, letting himself fall down onto her sofa. With what he would have sworn was a sigh of relief, Dís cast aside the embroidery – she had not inherited Frís’ skill with embroidery, even if she was a fair seamstress – as took a seat beside him, pushing his legs down to make room.

“I feel like tonight requires _uisge._ You drinking with me??” she asked; Dwalin nodded morosely. Neither of them mentioned the fact that today was the anniversary of her wedding, something Dwalin had half-forgotten in his worry about Nori.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong, and Nori won’t tell me. He wouldn’t let me kiss him or hug him… what if Lady Beurla hurt him somehow?” Dwalin groaned, accepting the amber liquid gratefully.

“Nori’s stronger than most, Dwalin, and well you know it. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind eventually,” Dís said. Pouring herself a goblet of _uisge_ too, she sipped the burning liquid slowly, savouring the taste of smoke. Dwalin smiled. Neither of them spoke for a while, simply drinking together.

 

“Víli once told me it was the way you drink _uisge_ that made him notice you the first time,” Dwalin chuckled, suddenly feeling like it was the funniest thing in the world. “Even more than the way you looked, it was the pleasure on your face he liked.” Dís blushed.

“He was a charmer, alright,” she replied, holding up her glass. “May there be _uisge_ in the Halls, my love,” she murmured, swallowing another measure.

“I miss him. And Thorin.” Dwalin muttered. “And the lads…” Dís lay down on the wide seat, holding her goblet as her big brother-like cousin wrapped his arms around her.

“Me, too.”

 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Dwalin asked, when both their faces were dry once more.

“Just like old times,” Dís chuckled wetly, “though you used to drink with Thorin… and we used to only miss Frerin and Cousin Fundin.” Sighing, Dwalin tightened his hold.

“To those who have joined Mahal’s Guard,” he murmured, raising his goblet and frowning to find it empty. Dís giggled, refilling it from her decanter before repeating the toast.

“To those who have joined Mahal’s Guard.”

“May we have good stories to tell when we meet again,” Dwalin murmured the traditional response. Dís just nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dís,” Dwalin muttered in protest when the light changed, the mirrors shining with light as the sun rose to the point where Dís would normally awaken, filling the room with refracted light.

“Make the sun go away, cousin,” Dis slurred, sleepily flicking his arm. Dwalin groaned, sitting up slowly. His head wasn’t particularly happy with that decision.

“How much did we drink?” he wondered, trying not to taste his own tongue. Dís moaned.

“Enough, I think.” Dwalin chuckled, instantly wincing at the resultant spike of pain.

“Can we just stay here today and be Not-King Dís and Not-Captain Dwalin?” he grumbled, closing the small cover the blocked the lightwell in Dís’ parlour.

“Remember the time we found the boys with their first hangover?” Dís smiled melancholily.

“Fíli was sick as a dog, but wee Kíli was too stubborn to throw it back up,” Dwalin chuckled, pouring them both a cup of water.

“Cousin Dáin wants me to make wee Stonehelm my heir,” Dís sighed – neither of them ever called the _other_ Thorin by any other name than the deed-name he’d earned falling headfirst from a battle-ram. Dwalin scoffed.

“Isnae his call,” he growled. “Pick whatever Heir you’d like. Wee Gimli’s more than enough Durin blood in him. Stonehelm’s already heir to the Iron Hills. He couldn’t rule both places anyway; it’s not like Dáin will have more children.”

“It was a shame Thorunn was defeated by Stonehelm’s birth,” Dís murmured, sipping her water.

“Doesn’t mean he should be made King of Erebor.”

“I find myself wishing I hadn’t raised Fíli to be so responsible in his dalliances,” Dís suddenly laughed; her voice becoming weepy in the middle. “Perhaps I might have had a grand-pebble, then…”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where were you?” Nori hissed angrily when Dwalin returned to their house late that evening.

“With Dís,” the warrior replied, not sure he owed Nori any explanation after the way the King’s Third Eye had acted.

“And last night?” Nori asked, his eyes narrowed.

“With Dís,” Dwalin repeated, heading towards the bedroom. He had several changes of clothes at the Palace and Dís had let him use her bathroom, but though they’d not spent the whole day drinking uisge, Dwalin felt the aftereffects of his hangover; all he wanted was to sleep for at least 6 hours straight.

“Is she…” Nori began, trailing after Dwalin as the warrior undressed himself, dumping his clothes on a chair and falling into bed with a groan.

“I’m exhausted, Nori,” he murmured. “Good night.”

“Is she what you want?” Nori whispered, almost too terrified of the answer to ask. Dwalin grumbled something incoherent.

“Wait, what?” he mumbled, opening one eye to stare at Nori. “What are you on about, sukdakud?”

“Would you rather be with a dam?” Nori forced himself to repeat his question, needing an answer instead of his own circling thoughts. Dwalin stared at him for a long minute before flopping back on the pillow.

“You did not just ask me if I wanted to be with _Dís_ , right, Nori?” he growled darkly.

“You like to look at the ladies, I’ve noticed.” He hadn’t truly noticed it before, but after following him the other day, Nori’s mind had been more than happy to serve up a bevy of memories of Dwalin looking at dwarrowdams in passing.

“Nori…” Dwalin began, but Nori kept talking, suddenly dying to get it all out.

“And the way you looked at me when I was dressed up as one…” Dwalin’s large palm covered his mouth; for the first time, Nori noticed the red-rimmed eyes staring at him.

“No, Nori. I did that for exactly the reason I told you,” Dwalin claimed, “because you were heading off to seduce someone else and I wanted you to know that what you did for your work didn’t affect _us_. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t jealous, of course, but I mostly did it because you’re _you_ , because I always want to do things with _you_ , and I don’t give a glass-hammer for what you wear or how you move.” Dwalin growled. “Now, I’ve spent the last 24 hours getting stinking drunk and crying about my dead family with my _sister_ , you hear me? And before _that_ , I spent just as long being worried you had been dumped down a mineshaft somewhere, _so don’t you dare come here accusing me of whatever this is!_ ” Falling back down on the bed, Dwalin scrubbed his weary eyes with his palms. Nori didn’t move. “If you’re coming to bed, come to bed, otherwise get out,” Dwalin sighed, lifting the blankets on Nori’s side, “I need sleep.”

“You… you want me to?” Nori asked, wondering how he had become so hesitant when normally he was the one at the front edge of any conversation. Dwalin grumbled.

“I don’t like you right now,” he admitted. Nori flinched. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you; nor does it mean I don’t want to sleep in this bed with you. So get in or get out.” Dwalin opened one eye, giving the fidgeting thief a steely glare. Nori nodded, toeing off his boots and tugging off the rest of his clothes swiftly. He lay down stiffly beside Dwalin. The warrior sighed. Rolling over, he wrapped an arm around Nori’s middle, pressing a kiss to one tense shoulder before resting his head there. Looking up, he fixed Nori with one red-rimmed stare that made the smaller dwarf feel guilty – not a common experience in Nori’s life. “Yesterday was Dís’ wedding anniversary; did you know?” Dwalin asked pointedly. Nori shook his head. “We always used to get drunk on that day; even before she ever met Víli, continued when he was still alive, but afterwards too. Celebration of our small peace, Thorin used to call it. Frís would take wee Fíli, and later Kíli, too, to visit with one of our cousins, and we’d spend the day being Not-Thorin, Not-Dís, and Not-Dwalin; being young dwarrow without royal obligations or duties for one day of the year. _One day._ One day that wasn’t a feast or any other kind of celebration, one day that was just for us.” Putting his head back down, Dwalin sighed heavily. Nori slowly raised his hand, running it through the dark hair at the back of Dwalin’s head.

“Dwalin… are you sure you don’t want a dam?” Nori whispered. Beneath his hand, Dwalin tensed up, but then relaxed with a sigh he smothered against Nori’s skin.

“Nori, did you know most assassins employ the same trick you were using against Lady Beurla?” Dwalin muttered. “I watch dwarrowdams because in my experience 75% of the ones who had designs on my King’s life have been dams or been _pretending_ to be dams. I’m a suspicious bastard; it doesn’t matter how long we’ve had peace, part of me will always suspect foul play. By now, it’s habit.”

“I love you,” Nori whispered, after long silence. Dwalin hummed.

“I love you too, you silly dwarf,” he murmured, kissing Nori’s collarbone.

 


End file.
